Ashes
by Zadea
Summary: My take on Jaime and Brienne born of dissatisfaction with what the writers did with that relationship.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Jaime and Brienne thoughts born of dissatisfaction with what the writers gave us. After reading several other fanfics I see I'm not the only one to feel the same way, so possibly this won't be terribly original. Plus I haven't written anything in 20 years. As always GoT and the characters aren't mine, I'm just playing with them.

Brienne

There was no shame in retreat under certain circumstances, she thought feverishly. Brienne of Tarth blushed furiously as she beat a hasty exit from the too-hot and echoing feast hall. And surly no shame in being a virgin, she mused angrily. Quite the contrary in fact- for an unmarried noblewoman of her status to be otherwise would be a greater sin by far. What was mortifying was that that damned imp Tyrion considered her so much "one of the lads" that he felt free to comment on the subject of her proposed maidenhood in front of the entire population of Winterfell. And he was there to hear it. Brienne felt her face heating even more at the memory of Jaime Lannister's expression when Tyrion made his announcement to the whole damned table. Gritting her teeth, she continued her determined march down the darkened corridor towards her chambers, hearing the sound of merriment fading with the torchlight. It wasn't like it should be a surprise to anyone. After all, he himself had made the very same observation so many years ago when he had been her prisoner. Of course at the time he had been trying to provoke her, as cagey as a trapped lion using any weapon in his arsenal to shake her so he could catch her off her guard. And he had very nearly succeeded a few times. The Lannister brothers were really quite an observant pair, it occurred to her. This time he at least had the decency to looked abashed at his brothers comment, and was chivalrous enough to try to deflect the line of questioning when Tyrion refused to drop it. What had happened after, her awkward attempt to flee, Tormund's arrival to top off an already excruciating couple of seconds had passed in a blur. It was a relief that she now found herself blessedly alone with her humiliation in the dark hallway.

Brienne finally reached her chamber and shut the door firmly behind her, resting her back against it as she tried to steady her breathing and calm her rattled sensibilities . The room was warm and glowing from the fire she kept constantly lit, and the howl of the cold northern wind outside her windows was a reminder of all the darkness she had come through safely over the last 48hours. Quietly, she lit her candles and removed her swordbelt, boots, and the outer layers of her clothing. Relaxing finally, Brienne allowed herself an uncommon moment of self pity. After the three failed engagements arranged by her long- suffering father, and the hopelessly unrequited love she had born for Renly Baratheon, she had resigned herself to never experiencing physical love. And yet here she was a young woman still, and tonight it seemed a lonely fate that she could so easily have died without ever knowing another's touch.

It was a fact that she had had opportunities in the past. Observant Jaime had been correct in that there were boys out there who liked a challenge. Yes, two or three had tried with her, maybe a few more than two or three, truth be told. And yes, damn him, he had seen with unerring clarity into her innermost heart that there remained a part of her that longed to feel like a woman, a lady, someone to be cherished and adored. Maybe even to be dominated, she darkly admitted to herself, if only for a moment. How did he do that, see through her so very clearly? Had she wanted to she could have lain with some random someone, just to know what it felt like. But to be seen by her first lover only as a challenge or a novelty hadn't yet been enough to tempt her.

Brienne sighed and threw more wood on the fire. No doubt the celebration continued without her in the feast hall; what had started out a solemn tribute to the fallen souls who's ashes were still being carried away by the freezing wind had quickly turned into a riotous celebration of those living who remained. Brienne could feel as the heaviness of the occasion lifted; people feasted and drank to excess; two by two couples stole away from the gathering to celebrate being alive in private. She herself had become mellow with more wine than she was accustomed to, lulled into contentment by the camaraderie of those who surrounded her. There was Pod faithfully at her side, and then there was them, the two Lannister brothers sitting across from her, as dissimilar in looks as it was possible for brothers to be. And yet both were clever and lively conversationalists and she had found herself smiling and drinking more than she had in the last year. Tyrion had started the game, which to begin with she quite enjoyed. Tyrion plied her with more and more wine, but when she had covered her goblet to stop him pouring it was Jaime who took her hand in his warm and calloused left to move it aside. Her head spun, and she realized it wasn't wine alone that was making her flush.

She pictured him now in her minds eye, so ridiculously handsome it made her head hurt- even his one remaining hand was beautiful. Indeed, age and scruffiness had only improved him. It wasn't fair for a man to be so blessed in his looks, when she, a woman, was left feeling huge and graceless and awkward. His behavior towards her since arriving in Winterfell had been confusing also, to say the least. She had grown accustomed to Tormund following her about like a lost direwolf pup, but it seemed strange to her that now she couldn't seem to turn around without tripping over Jaime Lannister. He was nice to her in a way he had never been before, gentlemanly and respectful as a Knight should be to a lady, rather than as one soldier to another. And then on the eve before the battle it had been he who had knighted her, looking past her gruff indifferent denial of even wanting to be a knight and seeing accurately what it was she truly longed for. The respect and acknowledgement of her peers felt good, but that it was he who formalized her well-earned recognition felt like something more. How did he do that? she wondered again. And why did he bother?

The lonely howl of the wind outside drew her back to the present. She wouldn't think on it anymore, she decided. One hopelessly unrequited love in her past already was enough pain for a lifetime. Like Renly, Jaime Lannister didn't love her or want her, he was just being kind. That he wasn't a man especially noted for kindness was something she wouldn't wonder about either. Perhaps he was ill, then? Brienne shrugged mentally. Whatever the case may be, she would force it out of mind just as she did so many other things.

Someone was knocking on her door, Brienne realized with a start, two knocks, then three more. Dear Gods, she thought, was she going to have to thrash that damned wilding before this night was over? Assuming her most thunderous expression, she strode to the door and yanked it open, thoroughly prepared to toss the persistent Tormund on his ass right there in the hallway. She wasn't prepared at all for what she found: Jaime Lannister standing rather unsteadily on her threshold, wine flagon and goblets in hand. Taking her glowering countenance in with a glance, he simply barged past her into her room. "You didn't drink." Was the only comment he offered as greeting.


	2. Chapter 2

Jaime

Really, truly, he could have kicked Tyrion right in the ass the moment the words left his mouth. Jaime watched as the Brienne hurriedly fled the celebration, obvious discomfort written plainly on her face. What was his bother thinking, commenting on a noblewoman's virginity as though she were some grubby squire who needed nothing more than a trip to the local brothel to dispose of it? Surely he wasn't that drunk? And then, to make matters worse, the entirely besotted Tormund had arrived on the scene, seemingly intent on following the woman in hopes of pressing his suit. That just wasn't happening tonight, Jaime decided as he stood abruptly to block the wildings path. Before he considered his motives too closely, it was he who followed the warrior woman out of the hall.

She'd been relaxed and happy in a way he'd rarely seen her over the years. Jaime had realized he thoroughly enjoyed her company, the warmth of her rare laugh and the growing flush on her pale skin made her eyes seem bluer in the torchlight. He'd found himself charmed and lulled into a contentment he hadn't felt in years, if ever. He hadn't even minded when his brother proposed playing the infamous drinking game. She'd seemed to enjoy it enough at first, and so had he, right up until the point she'd inadvertently stumbled upon a sore spot with Tyrion, the subject of his prior marriage. Of course she couldn't have guessed how twisted the tale really was. But the second Tyrion got his chance, he'd turned the tables by announcing the state of her maidenhead to everyone within earshot . Brienne's smile had faded and he watched as she shut down instantly.

Jaime felt her mortification just as keenly as if it were his own -he had both seen and surmised the cruel mockery and disparaging comments the warrior woman had been exposed to for years. He had correctly guessed she'd had an awful childhood. To his shame he recalled how cruelly he had belittled her in the first days of their association, though he'd done it mostly to to rile her at the time. After all, she had been leading him all over the countryside like a dog on a leash at the time - one couldn't expect him to be on his best behavior under those circumstances, could they? Cringing inwardly, he prayed she had forgiven him by now. And yet he'd known his comments hurt, he just hadn't anticipated he'd ever be fond enough of her to care. Some experiences left scars on the inside where they didn't show, he mused. It was only natural that she would assume Tyrion was mocking her.

And Brienne of Tarth carried her scars better than most, he realized. He told himself he'd followed her tonight to head off Tormund, who seemed determined to make her his own. But it wasn't as though she needed his protection, he knew she could have the grubby wilding flat on his back in the dust if she chose to, in whatever capacity she chose to, for that matter. That thought made him wince. It wasn't possible was it that she fancied him a bit? Jaime supposed the large man could be perceived as attractive, if smelly, disheveled and ginger was what happened to get ones juices flowing. Jaime wrinkled his nose in disgust as he recalled she hadn't drunk her wine before leaving the party. Perhaps that really was her response to Tyrion's query? Maybe the disgusting wilding had already got inside her? Surely not! An unfamiliar knot of jealousy settled uncomfortably in his gut.

Jaime Lannister grimaced and shuffled to a halt in the darkened corridor outside the feast hall, realizing suddenly that he had no idea whatsoever what the hell it was he was doing. He knew in his heart she'd not let Tormund anywhere near her, that she had never let anyone near her. Her stoic acceptance of her own undesirability had stuck with him over the years. But it wasn't strictly accurate, he admitted to himself, remembering his surprising and unwelcome response to her nakedness in the bath at Harrenhall those years before. He could see the humor in the memory now though at the time he'd been at his very lowest. There he was, sick as a dog and weak with fever and shock when he'd made one clever comment too many for her to bear, and he'd nearly ended his days as the first Lannister to die in a bathtub being thrashed by a large, angry, wet warrior woman. She'd towered above him threateningly, too furious for modesty and he'd realized to his discomfort that there was nothing masculine about her nude body, strong and tall and athletic though she was. The unexpected jolt of desire had been unsettling and intense. What was he thinking?

Distracted from his reverie by the sound of footsteps approaching, he realized a serving wench was coming towards him down the corridor in the direction of the feast hall, heavy tray laden with wine and goblets. On a whim, he brought his most devastating smile to bear on the unsuspecting girl, snatching two goblets and a decanter off her tray. The maid gave a little yelp of protest, which quickly gave way to flustered acceptance and a shy smile. He nodded to her courteously as he started back down the the hallway after Brienne, feeling just a tad more confident in his course of action.

Before he knew it he found himself outside her chamber. Doubt set in again: what could he say to her?

He wasn't drunk, after all Lannister's drank wine practically from the cradle, and it would take more than he had drunk tonight to genuinely incapacitate him. But he supposed the affectation of drunkenness could go far to save his dignity if things went horribly wrong for him in the next few moments. Knocking on her door, the sudden memory of leaping into the bear pit at Harrenhal flashed before his eyes.

The door jerked open and there she stood, an ominous expression on her face which quickly gave way to confusion at seeing him. He wobbled on his feet unsteadily a bit as he looked up into her deep blue eyes, swallowing hard. "You didn't drink."he stated, stupidly it seemed to him at that moment. Barging past her into the room before she could question him, he deposited the wine and goblets on the nearest flat surface he could ascertain, pouring the wine messily.

"I drank."

"In the game. This is Dornish." He passed her a filled goblet. Really he should have thought the conversation part of this scenario out better beforehand. He looked at her standing awkwardly in the glow of the fireplace, that familiar mulish expression settling on her features. Equal parts anxiety and desire clenched his heart at the sight.

Brienne took a drink, the uncertainty and confusion deepening in her eyes. "This is not a game." She stated, "This is only drinking."

"Suit yourself."

It was hotter in her room than a dragons bunghole, he realized. "You certainly keep it warm enough in here!" He turned away from her, sweat breaking on his brow as he awkwardly pulled off his leather jerkin, tossing it on her bed.

He turned back in time to see her looking at him intently, dismay and dawning comprehension showing in her expression. When she caught his eyes on her she looked down quickly and wiped apparently sweaty palms on her pant legs. He swallowed the sudden lump that appeared in his throat at the sight.

She was saying something about the North and the importance of keeping a fire lit. The words didn't matter, they were just a shield they both kept up between them to avoid the truth of the situation. He said something back to her about hating the North, biting enough that she told him to piss off.

"It grows on you." She said softly, looking at him.


	3. Chapter 3

Jaime and Brienne

So I'm as bad as Tyrion and wanted all the juicy details. I'll give you a fair warning that the rating of this story will be going up. I know I'm probably not following events as they unfolded in the show exactly, I'm going by memory and my memory isn't so good anymore. Also, reviews are always appreciated, even if they're bad. Thanks for reading!

It was as though they'd never been alone together before, Brienne thought as she watched an agitated- seeming Jaime move about her room, spilling wine and complaining about the heat. Hell, they'd been naked together in the same bathtub, and there hadn't been the level of tension that was currently radiating off him tonight, growing stronger by the second. Something was different, and both could feel the shift of the energy in the room. It seemed to hang in the space between them, a question begging to be answered, and yet unspoken. Brienne thought back to a warning her father had made years ago when he was teaching her to fight, about being wary of men with their blood up after a battle. Is that what was happening here, she wondered, bewildered. She didn't think so. But why was he here?

"I don't want things growing on me." He muttered, turning away from her. She watched as he filled his goblet with yet more wine, and it occurred to her that she had never seen him drunk before. Maybe that was his issue? But when he turned back to her his eyes were intense, locked on her face clear and sharp, and there was an unusual edge to his voice. "And speaking of things growing on you, how about Tormund Giantsbane? Has he grown on you?" Was that really jealousy she was hearing, or had she taken leave of her senses? "He was quite sad when you left."

Jaime watched as she scoffed a bit, rolling her eyes and leaving his question unanswered. The warm crackle of the fire within the room blended with the lonely howl of the wind outside, filling the silence between them before she spoke again.

"You sound quite jealous."

"I do, don't I." He admitted.

He looked at her standing there so still, her blue eyes filled with fear and questioning. Unable to hold her gaze, he spun away from her, exclaiming. "It's bloody hot in here!" He pulled and bit at the laces of his shirt, trying to loosen them. Brienne looked away, then back at him. Away and back before striding abruptly towards him.

"Oh move aside!" For a fraction of a second he thought she was about to thrash him, and he'd end this night flat on his ass on the other side of her door. Instead she roughly smacked his hand away from the laces and began matter of factly unlacing them herself. Stirred at her sudden closeness, he reached up and pulled at the laces of her shirt.

"What are you doing?"

"Taking your shirt off."

A heavy pause, and then she pushed his hand away. He watched, mesmerized, as she nimbly undid the laces herself. He was entranced by the motion of her hands, noting that strong as they were, they were long-fingered and graceful, a lady's hands.

She continued in an almost business like manner, pulling his shirt out of his trousers and lifting it over his head. Then she shrugged off her own shirt, dropping it in the floor at their feet.

His eyes dropped, raking her naked torso, feeling undeniable need building.

"I've never slept with a Knight before." He admitted, his voice low and rasping.

"I've never slept with anyone before." She answered softly.

"Then you have to drink."

The mulish expression was back. "I told you-" she began before he finally dared to end the conversation with his kiss.

Brienne's heart beat painfully, pounding against her rib cage as his mouth closed abruptly on her own. His lips were hard and demanding, leaving her no question what it was he wanted of her. She felt a flash of panic, followed swiftly by elation. She couldn't deny she wanted him, she'd made her decision the second she'd reached for his laces. She felt his warm and calloused left hand caress her check, while the cold metal of his right pressed against her back as he pulled her nearer. She shivered against him, despite the heat, trembling with reaction. Gasping, he broke the kiss; as he stared into her eyes she saw the same panic and elation reflected back at her.

He lowered his gaze from hers, chuckling to himself as he did so. "I'm nervous as a boy." He admitted quietly.

Something very like tenderness flooded her heart at the admission.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Rated M, please don't read if you're easily offended. As always the characters don't belong to me, I'm just playing with them. _

Brienne

Brienne swallowed, watching his face closely, loving the way the light played on his features, his high cheekbones, his long nose, leaving him gilded. She wondered what it was he saw looking back at him, knowing she was no match for his beauty. Green eyes were scanning her face, searching for clues, looking for doubt or fear or refusal. Discerning none of these, he pulled her back against him, kissing her again, this time more softly. His left hand brushed her cheek, skimming lightly down the column of her throat, her shoulder, her breast, down her body to her hip. Gripping it, he pulled her against him firmly. She inhaled shakily as she felt his hardness pressing against her, undeniable evidence of his need. Panic flared again, but she pushed through it, knowing she wanted this, more than anything else at this moment, whatever it may be or however long it may last. Hesitant at first, growing bolder, she touched him, stroking the hard planes of his chest, his shoulders, his back. He groaned deep in his throat, pushing her, steering her backwards in the direction of her bed. Sliding her hands down his body, she fumbled shakily with the laces of his pants.

Her hands were so unsteady that she'd made little progress on his lacing by the time she felt the back of her legs touch the side of the bed. Laughing now, he pulled away just enough to give her a shove, drawing a little yelp of surprise from her as she fell gracelessly back on the fur coverlet. She blinked up at him, standing above her, and watched as he finished what she'd started with the laces, allowing the pants to slide down his legs. Feeling suddenly, painfully shy, she squeezed her eyes closed and heard him laugh again.

"Bashful now are we?" He observed. "It's not like you haven't seen it before."

"Not like that." She whispered, eyes still firmly closed.

"No, not like this." The mattress gave as he knelt above her and she felt his hand at the fastenings of her own pants. She knew he'd require help with this; she fought to regain the business-like composure of earlier. Arching her back, she loosed the lacing and slid the pants down over her hips, while he helped her pull them down her long legs and over her feet.

He was staring down at her, an unreadable expression in his eyes as they roamed the length of her nude body. She felt a hot flush creeping over her bare skin. "Don't look at me like that!" She hissed self consciously.

"Like what."

"I know I'm not beautiful."

He leaned over her, meeting her eyes. "What's beauty? He asked. "I think I'll decide what I find beautiful."

The mattress creaked as he moved, shifting his body down over hers. The sensation of his warm skin against hers, his weight bearing down on her was entirely intoxicating , and she wrapped her arms around him as he kissed her again.

It was strange how quickly a situation could flip entirely to the unexpected, Brienne mused; she'd seen it in battles countless times, and so it was in life also. Her evening had started with the too-familiar sense of unease with herself and a fear of being mocked that had followed her throughout her entire life, only to alter to the indescribable bliss of complete acceptance in her most vulnerable state. That Jaime was the one to give her this meant more to her than she wanted to think about at the moment. Instead she gave herself up to her feelings and the instinctual reactions she had only used before when fighting.

His mouth left hers as he kissed her neck, her breasts; she could feel his stubbly beard abrading the tender skin there, the small pain of it intensifying her pleasure to near unbearable. As he shifted down to kiss her stomach, she dared to sink her fingers into his thick hair, Lannister gold turning silver. A rush of panic again as he moved lower, supporting himself on his maimed right arm as he pushed her thighs apart. Painfully self- conscious again, she struggled up to her elbows to look at him. "What are you doing?"

He lifted his head, staring up the length of her body, his expression guileless as her regarded her. "I suggest you lay back and find out."

Brienne realized what he was about, having certainly heard of the practice, but her knowledge of sex was so rudimentary she had no idea of what to think or expect. "Can't you just, y'know, do it the normal way?" She suggested.

He was laughing at her now, but his eyes on hers were warm. "It will hurt for you the first time." He explained. She knew this of course, but hadn't considered it. "It won't hurt me." He continued. "It will feel wonderful, in fact. I'm trying to make this good for both of us." Still reading doubt and fear in her eyes, he added softly, "Trust me, please."

Brienne nodded mutely, not trusting her voice. She lay back, trying to will her body into some state of relaxation . Again he shifted himself downward, pushing her long legs apart and settling in between them. She pressed her eyes tightly closed as she felt his fingers touch her in that most intimate and unspeakable of places, parting her and then stoking her in a way that sent shockwaves throughout her body. She gasped and nearly came off the mattress as he replaced his fingers with his mouth, hot tongue driving a wave of liquid fire through her core. Unable to stop herself, she cried out, speaking his name again and again until the wave peaked and then subsided. Slowly returning to herself , she registered her own pounding heartbeat and the raggedness of her breathing first, dawning to awareness of him, resting his head tenderly against her thigh. "See, I told you." He said. "You should always trust me about these things." Brienne's could only nod, too stunned to form words.

He moved abruptly, raising his body to lay over her again. He'd been so steady and patient before that she'd nearly forgotten his own need, but now she could feel his trembling urgency as he kissed her lips roughly . Clearly he was struggling with self control as his mouth moved to her breasts; taking her nipple briefly between his teeth he suckled her, first one breast and then the other. Brienne could feel the heat building inside her again as he nudged her thighs further apart with his knee and pressed the hard length of himself against her. He raised his head to meet her eyes as he began to press into her slowly. Unable to stop herself, Brienne cried out, the sting of sudden pain, euphoria and fear too much to bear.

"Am I hurting you?" He rasped out.

"Yes." Her voice sounded strange and choked, and she realized tears were flowing from her wide eyes.

She felt him pull back, but she put her arms around his back and pulled him against her. "Don't stop!" She cried. "Don't stop." She gasped again as he drove himself fully inside her.

Clearly he couldn't hold himself back anymore ; Brienne's fingers clutched his shoulders in a way that had to be painful as he thrust into her again and again. It hurt, just as he'd warned her, but the pain itself was blissful, as was the knowledge that it was he who was claiming this first from her, filling a part of her that until now had been empty. She felt the ache subsiding, and she began to relish the strength of his body moving against her, within her; his sweat and his ragged breath and his heart pounding with her own. A near unbearable tension was building inside her again, and it was with a sense of wonder that she felt it build and build and then shatter. She knew it was the same for him as his body on hers abruptly tensed; he rasped out her name as he thrust into her a final time before spending himself inside her.

Brienne could feel her virgins blood mixed with his seed slick upon her thighs. Slowly, he shifted his weight off her and to the side; lifting his head he looked into her eyes, but neither could seem to find words. Instead he brushed her cheek lightly with his lips, letting his head drop to rest against her shoulder. They lay together unmoving, unwilling and unable to separate; the fire crackled in its grate and the wind howled outside as they drifted on to sleep.


End file.
